


Deja Vu. (10AM Gare du Nord)

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, just nice dorky phil feelings, tour feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7167359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some nice, generic, wake-up birthday cuddles bc it’s mum’s birthday (happy b’day mum don’t get too hammered in Vegas mmhm)(also,, might wanna listen to 10AM Gare du Nord when reading)(good song i promise)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja Vu. (10AM Gare du Nord)

The warm, Nevada sunlight streams through the open window. Crisp, white, hotel sheets are crumpled, discarded to the side as a coolish cocoon to the two English men, the American summer too hot for the both of them. Body warmth was enough, the heat of nothing but tangled limbs and messy hair. 

Waking up in a new city every few days seemed to be taking a toll on them, but being so close to the end of the tour was almost comforting, in a way. They loved America, loved seeing all the their viewers and their friends, loved the incredible food. Sometimes it all just gets a bit much, and they find themselves longing for their sweet, homely flat in soggy London. 

Phil begins to roll over, making a silent grunting sound as he stretches, bringing his arms up and over his head. He sighs, looking around the blatantly repetitive hotel room. Same dinky arm chairs; horrible wifi; gross orange carpet; bible in the bedside table drawer; same sweet, drowsy Dan. 

He glances over at the generic alarm-clock on Dan’s side of the bed, looking at the time. 0930. 11/06/16. He smiles, nessling back into his pillow. And there was Dan, sleeping soundly. Nuzzled into Phil’s chest, hair poking in all sorts of ways, curly from the shower he took the night before. Cheeks flushed a dusty rose and eyes closed, so gentle. Lips smooshed and chapped and mouth just slightly pushed agape, drooling from how tired he was. Phil thinks that he likes sleeping Dan almost as much as he loves awake Dan. He always has and it's quite nice, as he’s usually the first one awake. 

Dan’s slept like this for years, and even as his 18 year old self, his lips would ease the same way, and he’d rest his head in the same spot on Phil’s chest. He likes to be cuddled, and even with the boys bold declarations of being the big spoon, it really was very much the other way around. He always liked his head to be covered by the sheets for some reason and when Phil asks him about it, he never really answers properly. It probably was only just a comfort thing, and it’s not like he minds -it’s quite endearing, really. And Phil loves when he nuzzles in his sleep, finding Phil’s sock-clad feet and rubbing his shockingly cold calves against them. 

Sometimes his hair goes curly throughout the night, but it depends on the season. In Summer, (or after a particularly heated night, if you catch Phil’s drift) when the heat gets too much and everything is sticky and hot and limbs stick to limbs, the hair at the nape of his neck will curl up, and his fringe will clump together in sweet little patches, all matted and glowy with dried hairspray. And Phil loves to card his fingers through it, smoothing out all of the knots and tangles. It smells of crisp apples and sickly-sweet caramel and it's warm, just like the rest of him. 

Dan starts to stir and incoherent, squeaking noises seep from his mouth. He stretches his legs, pointing his toes, and they poke out from the bottom of the double-sized bed. Phil hears all his bones crack as he twists in his position, still half unconscious. He rubs his face against Phil’s chest, nestling into the familiar warmth and scent of Phil. Phil brings a hand up to run through Dan’s hair, gently coaxing him awake. 

A few moments later, Dan’s head peeps up from it’s little nest, eyes blinking up at Phil. 

“Good morning.” Phil whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips. Dan smiles back, lazily blinking as he returns to his hidey-hole. Phil watches as the sun lands on Dan’s cheeks, illuminating the precious glow that sits there. Dan hates his red cheeks, says he was teased for them in school. But Phil loves them, loves how easily Dan blushes, loves that when it snows Dan’s nose turns into a christmas ornament and his cheeks grow so hot that they melt Phil’s cold hands. Phil loves that Dan’s complexion is so compatible with his heart and soul, that someone so sincere and brilliant on the inside can radiate the same warmth on the outside, too. 

“Do you remember the last time we woke up in Vegas?” Dan hums, nodding his head into Phil’s chest. Phil certainly remembers. It was in the Luxor Hotel, after probably the craziest night they’ve ever shared together. Phil won a bit of money at a casino, so much, in fact, that they upgraded their regular suite to the penthouse class, and after Dan stopped freaking out about the size of the room, they had a bit of fun. That night was one of the best in Phil’s life, and he’ll never forget it.

Might’ve actually been the night that he found out Dan was the one, the person he wanted to be with. Because it turned into something more than just one of his dumb university flings. Maybe he’d already known, because it had always been so special with Dan. His Mum says that once upon a time, him and Dan were made of the same star, and the reason they’re so compatible is because they’re made of each other, that they were once each other’s homes. And it sort of feels that way sometimes, when they’ve gone back to their families for the holidays, and almost everything reminds him of Dan, and he feels it. It’s sort of gravitational, the pull that he feels. Like their pinky fingers have red strings tied to them, attaching them together, and when the other goes too far away, the string pulls just a little bit. 

Relationships are funny. People are funny. And for Phil, he thought he was the weirdest one of them all. He’d never dated anyone seriously before Dan. He was always sort of just, Phil. Phil from Lancashire, who worked at a stationery store and played his Nintendo 64 on the weekends. Phil who was trying to get through university, trying to not acknowledge all of his friends getting girlfriends and being happy. 

And for Dan to love Phil, to seriously love him, was sort of a shock. But a good one, he supposes. It’s true that love finds you when you never thought it would. He’d hear how his parent’s met each other and wish to have a relationship like theirs. Secretly wishing to have someone to come home to, to be able to call his.

But he thinks it’s even weirder that people aren’t with their best friends. He’d hear all his high school friends talk about their new girlfriends, but if he asked them what her favourite dress was, or if she covers her mouth when she laughs, or how she looks at 2AM after a very intense game of scrabble, they wouldn’t be able to answer. Phil likes that he’s in love with his best friend. He thinks it’s better that way. 

By now, Dan has come down from the passengers deck and has crossed the border into morning town. His amber eyes shine beautifully in the sunlight, and Phil can’t help but stare at them. Focusing on all the features he adores about Dan. His large nose that can get so cold in winter, his red, blotchy spots Phil finds so endearing, his chapped lips that match the colour of his cheeks. And another year older, too. 

“In twenty-five years, I’ll be fifty.” Dan mumbles quietly. Phil chuckles, turning on his side to look at Dan head-on. 

“Our kids will have graduated high school by then! Where will we be living? Brighton, maybe?” Dan hums, smiling at Phil. Phil reaches around to wrap his arms around Dan, letting them enjoy the morning sun together, bask in the freedom a little longer. 

“Oh, and happy birthday, by the way.” Dan laughs, a real belly rumbling laugh. And it's raspy from sleep and oh-so sweet sounding to Phil’s ears. And he holds Dan tighter, hoping that every morning is spent like this one.


End file.
